Inferno_Part 1_The Vault Page 8

  I tried to prop myself up on my elbows, but Dante forced me back down, pushing my head into the pillow. “Stay just like that,” he breathed through his teeth. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are in this position, completely exposed and at my mercy?” He drove into me harder, faster, with more fury.

  “Dante,” I moaned, so close to falling over the edge. My limbs began to shake, my muscles trembling.

  “You feel better than I imagined.” He leaned down, nibbling on my shoulder blades as he hooked his arm around my waist, forcing me upright. His motions slowed, becoming more relaxed and deliberate as we kneeled on his bed, my back glued to his front.

  “I imagined it, too,” I confessed, lost in the sensation.

  “Tell me.” His hand roamed across my stomach, making its way to my breast.

  “After I landed yesterday, I took a nap. I had a dream, and you were in it.”

  “Oh, really?” he mused, lightly squeezing my nipple.

  “Yes.”

  “What were we doing in this dream?” His hips rocked against me gently, as if he knew I was close, but was prolonging my pleasure.

  “You were fucking me.”

  His lips grazed my shoulder blades as he wrapped my hair in his hand, yanking my head back.

  “Is it everything you fantasized it would be?”

  “No.”

  He pulled my hair harder. I yelped from the pain, but he didn’t loosen his grip. This was precisely the response I’d hoped for.

  “It’s better.”

  “Good girl.” His motions gradually increased once more. “Hold on to the headboard with one hand. Touch yourself with the other.”

  This time, there was absolutely no hesitation on my part. Leaning on my elbow, I gripped the iron headboard, using it to brace myself, and ran my other hand down my stomach, finding my swollen clit.

  I moaned, overwhelmed with sensation as Dante increased his pace, his movements becoming frenzied and erratic. Within seconds, I fell apart, waves of gratification washing over me, my orgasm hard and drawn out.

  “That’s right,” Dante breathed. “That’s how it should be, Eleanor.”

  He grabbed my hips and pulled out. In one swift move, he flipped me onto my back and slammed into me once more. I’d barely come down from my first orgasm, but my body was already on the precipice of shattering all over again. Dante slowed his rhythm, rocking his hips into mine. With each drive, he pushed me closer and closer.

  He leaned on his elbows, hovering over me, his motions gentle, deep, perfect. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust.

  “God, I love how you feel,” he murmured. “The fact your ex only wanted to do this once a week boggles my mind. I just…” He shook his head, his eyes growing heavy with desire…and something else I couldn’t quite explain. “I want to just crawl inside you.” He pushed even deeper into me, then withdrew, repeating the pattern over and over again. Each invasion brought me higher and higher until I came undone, trembling around him again, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. He pressed his lips back to mine as he shook and jerked, grunting through his own release.

  We remained completely still for several long moments, our bodies connected. The only sound in the cavernous room was that of our heavy breathing. When I couldn’t take the pressure anymore, I loosened the grip my legs had around his waist, my muscles limp. I had a feeling I’d be sore tomorrow morning, but in the best way possible.

  Dante buried his head in my neck, peppering soft kisses down it. His gentleness was at complete odds with the way he just fucked me, but it was exactly what I needed. It was as if he had an Ellie Crenshaw handbook and had studied each word of it ahead of time.

  Once our breathing was under control, he rolled off me and removed the condom, tossing it in a nearby trash bin. I hesitated, wondering if this was my cue to leave. I wasn’t exactly sure of the etiquette here. Then he returned to the bed, pulling me against him, my back to his front. He covered our bodies with his luxurious duvet and I closed my eyes, reveling in the comfort he provided me, regardless of how short-lived it was.

  “I like this,” I murmured, my voice lazy with exhaustion.

  “What’s that?” he hummed.

  “Post-fucking snuggling.”

  “It’s my favorite part, as well.”

  “I’ve never done it before,” I admitted drowsily. I closed my heavy eyelids, struggling to keep them open.

  “That’s because you’ve been with the wrong man, Eleanor. And I intend to make it my mission to prove that to you while you’re in Roma.”

  “I have a feeling I’m really going to like Italy.”

  Chapter Seven

  The faint aroma of coffee made its way to my senses and my eyes fluttered open. I stared at my surroundings, disoriented at first, before I remembered where I was…Dante’s. I sat up in the bed, glancing beside me to see he wasn’t there. I pushed back the duvet and raised myself to my feet, my muscles sore as I padded across the room toward the large windows. Night had fallen, and I wondered how long I had been asleep.

  Finding Dante’s shirt on the floor, I pulled it on and buttoned it. The hard wood floor was chilly on my toes as I tiptoed down the stairs and padded through the spacious living area, following the delicious smells and sultry sound of a deep voice singing. I paused in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Dante, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, maneuvering with incredible ease around a gourmet chef’s kitchen. He remained lost in his own little world, completely oblivious to my presence, tasting whatever he was cooking as he sang along with an old Frank Sinatra tune.

  He turned from the stove and toward an island that had to be twelve feet long. When he noticed me in the doorway, he came to a stop, a smile tugging on his lips. “You’re awake.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. You need to eat. I hope you like veal.”

  “Veal?” I pushed off the doorjamb, sauntering toward him as he poured red wine into two glasses. One thing was certain. Dante was spoiling me. Brock’s kitchen skills were the equivalent of a thirteen-year-old. I was lucky if he knew how to boil water. I was a decent cook, but it was readily apparent I was no match for Dante.

  “Is that okay?”

  “If it’s even half as good as the meal I had last night, I’ll love it.”

  He approached, gazing at me in a way that made adrenaline rush through me, a lightness in my chest. Lifting the hem of my borrowed shirt, he placed his hand on the small of my back, lowering his lips to mine. His kiss was gentle, unhurried…beautiful.

  “I like you in this,” he said, eyeing his shirt. “Almost as much as I like you in nothing.”

  “That can be arranged,” I flirted.

  He released his hold on me, giving me a sly grin. “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  He stepped back, hardening his stare. “Take it off.”

  Keeping my eyes locked on his, I found the top button and unfastened it, my pace measured and sluggish.

  “Are you trying to tease me, Eleanor?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his biceps bulging.

  “Yes,” I replied in a firm voice.

  “Well, don’t,” he barked, his tone harsh. A delicious shiver rolled over me. “I am not a patient man. I said to take it off, so take…it…off.”

  Giving him a demure look, I quickly unbuttoned the remainder of the shirt, allowing it to slide down my arms and fall at my feet. The bright lights in this room were unforgiving, allowing Dante to see all my imperfections. Instead of focusing on the fact that I didn’t have a size zero body or a gap between my thighs, as Brock often mentioned, Dante gazed upon me with more hunger, more need, more eagerness.

  His gaze softened, and he brought my body against his once more. “You’re a masterpiece, Eleanor,” he crooned, his tender voice at complete odds with the powerful, demanding man he was moments ago.

  His lips met mine, kissing me witho
ut reservation. Grasping my face in his strong hands, he breathed into me as if he were giving me life. In that moment, I felt he was. The old Ellie had died the second she boarded that flight to Rome. Dante had brought me back to life, had given me a second chance at finally living.

  I ran my hands through his hair, trying to pull him closer. A groan tumbled from his mouth. He lifted me up, forcing my legs around his waist. Carrying me to the large kitchen island, he set me down on the pristine white stone. He pulled his erection out of his briefs, rubbing it against my slit.

  “Are you on birth control?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I said once more without hesitation.

  Before I could utter anything else, he entered me, his motions steady. This was different than the last time. It was so much more primal, more intense, more intimate. It was slower, deeper, but so much more fulfilling. Closing my eyes, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “No, Eleanor,” he said through his heavy breathing. “Keep them open. I want you to see me.” He cupped my cheeks with both hands, locking my head in place.

  “I do see you.” I stared into his eyes as he moved inside me, rocking my hips with the rhythm he set. “I see so much.”

  This felt surreal, as if I were having an out-of-body experience. In fact, the past few days seemed like one beautiful dream…a dream I feared I’d wake up from at any minute to face the nightmare that had been my life.

  “Good.” His lips whispered subtly against mine.

  I ran my hands up and down his back, feeling his muscles flex as he pushed into me, each thrust sharper, fuller, more satisfying than the last. With every flick of his tongue, every brush of his hand, every beat of his heart against mine, I spiraled deeper and deeper, his measured and well-choreographed movements bringing me closer to the precipice of falling over and crumbling before him.

  Too soon, that familiar sensation bubbled in my core, my release imminent. My muscles tensed and I bit my lip, trying to fight it. I didn’t want this to end. Not yet. Not ever.

  “Let go. I want to feel you.” His lips covered mine, our tongues a tangled web of need. His kiss was the final straw and I quivered around him, moaning into his mouth.

  “God, I love how you feel when you come.” His motions became more frenzied before he abruptly stopped. He grunted my name as he emptied inside me, trembling and jerking.

  Once our breathing was under control, he slowly pulled away, leaving a kiss on my nose. Opening a nearby drawer, he handed me a towel. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, if you want to clean up.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Dinner at midnight sounds a bit…unconventional.”

  “What can I say?” He winked. “I’m a bit of an unconventional guy.” He turned from me, using a towel to clean himself, before readjusting his boxer briefs. “If you’d like to shower, there’s shampoo and conditioner in the master bathroom.”

  I jumped down from the counter. “Care to join me?” I wiggled a brow at him.

  “I would love to.” His eyes narrowed on me. “But this dinner won’t cook itself. Next time. Now go.” He swatted my ass playfully. “I’ll have dinner set out when you return.”

  Smiling, I retreated from the kitchen, giddy at the thought of next time with Dante.

  When I walked back downstairs after a quick shower and dressing in my sundress once more, I almost didn’t recognize the place. Dante had dimmed the lighting in the dining area and set a few votive candles on the table. The light from the flame danced on the high walls. Soft music played in the background, the aroma of the veal he had prepared making my stomach growl. I didn’t think I’d ever been so hungry before in my life. And not just for food, either.

  As I made my way toward the table, Dante rounded the corner from the kitchen, still gloriously shirtless and wearing only his boxer briefs. He carried two pristine white dishes, setting one down at the head of the table and the other in front of the chair catty-corner to it. A smile lit up his face when he noticed me.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Refreshed.”

  “Good. I hope you’re hungry.” He pulled out a chair, holding it for me. I didn’t recall Brock ever doing that for me, although I was pretty certain I’d seen him do it for some of his wealthier female donors.

  “Starving,” I said, burying my memories. I needed to stop comparing everything Brock did or didn’t do to Dante. I came here to find my fresh start. I’d never be able to do that if I constantly dwelled on the past.

  “You should be. You barely ate today…or for the past six months.” His fingers skimmed my shoulder blades as he pushed my chair in, then took the seat at the head of the table. “There’s nothing sexier than a woman who enjoys her food.”

  “And there’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to cook.” I winked, placing the cloth napkin in my lap.

  “I do hope you enjoy the veal. This is one of my favorite dishes.”

  He picked up his knife and fork and sliced into it. I did the same, the meat practically falling off the bone. I brought it to my mouth, the flavor of veal mixed with what I presumed to be a rich coffee and red wine sauce dancing on my tongue. Dante took having a post-coital snack to a level I wasn’t expecting. How could I go back to the real world after this?

  “It’s delicious,” I said. “I’ve never had veal like this before. It’s usually really chewy.”

  “Because too many chefs don’t appreciate it. They try to prepare it as they do steak or lamb, and you can’t do that. Every meat should be treated and respected for its distinct characteristics.”

  I reached for my wine glass, taking a sip. It was a robust red, the perfect pairing to such an exquisitely prepared meat. “What made you want to become a chef?”

  He took another bite of his veal, then washed it down with some wine. Swirling his glass, he looked at me, considering my question. “I don’t know if it was any one thing,” he said finally. “Like I mentioned last night, I do believe in such ridiculous ideas as fate.” He smirked, and I bit my lower lip. “I truly believe I had some predetermined destiny that this was the path I was meant to take. Growing up, my father wasn’t exactly part of my life. He was an American serviceman stationed here. My mother loved him. He said he loved her, too…until she got pregnant. That’s when she learned he had a wife and two kids back in the States.”

  “Oh god.” I met his eyes, offering him a compassionate smile. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. My mom worked as a server at one of the restaurants in town when I was growing up. She would go in early to watch the cooks do all their prep work. Sometimes she’d sit in the corner and observe them prepare orders as they came in. She studied their style, their technique, how they tasted the different sauces. When she came home, she’d practice. I guess I picked up on a lot of it. When I was old enough to work, I got a job busing tables at a local restaurant. I slowly worked my way up the chain and soon found myself in the kitchen.”

  “You never went to culinary school?” I asked.

  “I eventually did, but I’d already amassed a great deal of knowledge. Culinary school simply helped me hone those skills.”

  “Well, it’s certainly paid off, although I would have been just as happy with grilled cheese or something like that for a midnight snack.” I took another bite of my veal.

  “You deserve much better than that, Eleanor,” he responded in his deep, sensual tone. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll only have the best. Nothing less.”

  Swallowing hard at the sincerity in his voice and eyes, I couldn’t stop my next question from falling off my tongue. “Why me?”

  “Excuse me?” He cocked his head.

  “You could have any woman you want, Dante. Why did you agree to…my proposition, even after I told you I was somewhat inexperienced?” I knew this was probably not the right time to have this conversation…if there ever was a right time…but the question had been
in the back of my mind all evening, nagging at me. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he had some ulterior motive, other than getting laid.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Eleanor. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

  “So you do this with every beautiful woman you meet?”

  He laughed politely, shaking his head. “Certainly not. I’m away from home more than half of the year. In my experience, most women my age are looking for something more long-term than I can give them.”

  “And I wasn’t.” I placed my hands in my lap, avoiding his eyes. Chewing on my bottom lip, I couldn’t help but suddenly feel ashamed. What had possessed me to proposition a complete stranger to have sex with me? And then let him come inside me without a condom on? What was wrong with me?

  Pushing away from the table, I abruptly stood. “I should probably get going.”

  I hurried away and darted toward the living room, rushing to leave before Dante could convince me otherwise. I was fooling myself to think I could be the type of person to have a meaningless fling with someone I’d never see again after I left this beautiful country. I never should have listened to Mila’s crazy idea that I sleep with some hot Italian man. I was trying to figure out who I was as a person, but this couldn’t be it. Could it?

  Grabbing my purse off the coffee table, I approached the front door. I came to an abrupt stop when I saw Dante standing in front of it, his stance wide, his arms crossed. Before I could say anything in protest, he cupped my face in his strong hands and pressed his lips against mine, greedily kissing me, erasing any shred of doubt from my subconscious.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered against my mouth. “Don’t run. Don’t let everything you were taught your entire life dictate how you should feel right now.” His eyes were intense as he stared into mine. “I get it. I’ve been around Catholic guilt my entire life. It’s one of the most difficult things to come to terms with, but I get the feeling Catholic guilt has nothing on the shit you’ve been peddled for years.”

  I blinked, doing everything I could to fight back the tears forming in my eyes from the sincerity of his expression and words.